


Seven

by morgan_cian



Category: Original Work
Genre: BDSM, Dom/sub, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,569
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan_cian/pseuds/morgan_cian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the Seven Deadly Sins challenge at <a href="http://filthyminds.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://filthyminds.livejournal.com/"></a><b>filthyminds</b>; A night at a unique club becomes an obsession.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Seven

_Prologue_

 

Lincoln James flipped the invitation over once more and read the fancy script:

_Mr. James,_

_You have been invited to the exclusive gentleman’s club, Seven. Present this to the entry and enjoy VIP accommodations. Consider this a job well done._

_Marshall, Lovett, and Braithwaite, Inc._

Rolling his eyes, he settled against the plush leather and relaxed. The car had been a part of the deal. The driver knew the location of the club. He had been jonesing for a chance to work with the senior partners, making risky deals that worked out brilliantly, earning the firm and its clients millions.

He was gratified to get the cryptic invitation, but wary as well. The partners would no doubt have eyes and ears all over the ‘gentleman’s club’ so he would have to be on his toes. And suffer hours being groped by cheapened tarts who were no better than whores for their masters.

Another reason for the fast and sloppy hand job with his current little houseboy, Adam, it relieved the tension and would allow him to keep up his hetero front. Adam had wiggled like a puppy, large brown eyes begging to be allowed to come along for the ride, but Linc denied him, soothing him with plastic pushed into his hand and carte blanche for whatever his little heart desired on the internet.

And his little puppy would be horned up and ready to fuck when he got this night behind him. Linc adjusted himself, checking the lines of his custom made Italian suit. Only the best for Marshall, Lovett, and Braithwaite, associates had to dress the part.

The smooth roll of the car had him opening his eyes and sitting up. The driver breaked at the curb and a valet opened the door.

“Invitation, sir?”

Lincoln pressed the crumpled paper into white gloved fingers. The man’s grin was just as white against dark skin.

“Welcome to Seven.”

*~*

_Lust_

Lincoln was hard pressed to keep the shock from breaching his features. It was a club, all right, with bright lights, thumping bass, and shadowed corners. And gorgeous boys as far as the eyes could see, writhing on the floor, sweat gleaming from naked flesh, and bizarrely costumed servants flitting about.

A boy with pale blonde hair dressed in an open white shirt and low slung cotton pants, slender feet encased in sandals appeared in front of him, making Lincoln take a step back with a growl.

The boy bit his full bottom lip and ducked his head, the eyes however were calculating and hard from beneath wheat colored lashes, “You look like you could use some help, sir.”

“Who are you?” Lincoln spat back. He could feel the heat crawling up his neck and into his cheeks. This had to be someone’s idea of a joke and there would be hell to pay.

The lashes fluttered and the boy’s weight rocked from foot to foot, “I’m Innocence, sir, I am here to serve.”

Lincoln snorted derisively. He bet he did, his earlier thoughts shifted from busty, bleached tarts to slender emaciated twinks, whores just the same. And the painted little whore was holding out his hand expectantly, innocent, indeed.

The boy scanned the invitation, his expression changed from haughty, feigned bright eyed innocent, to something darker, hungrier, licking his full bottom lip and raising glittering eyes to Linc’s once more.

“Right this way, sir.”

Lincoln followed, keeping his eyes off swaying hips and the gentle curve of ass. He looked up and frowned. It was a black curtained doorway, with two glass enclosed stages at each side. In one, a boy with long flowing blonde hair, large white wings, and a swath of white material hanging from sharp hip bones, swayed under golden lights. The second was gyrating to a sound that only he could hear, the red lights tinting pale skin, black wings, flying raven hair, a boy with eyes heavily lined with kohl a lips wet and slick. When he realized Linc’s eyes were on him, he groped his cock encased in black leather shorts, lifting his thigh high booted foot to the glass. He humped his hand while Lincoln watched. Lincon’s lips peeled back and looked away. The lettering beneath each stage said, “Saint and Sinner.”

He wanted to snort, he was beginning to see the theme behind ‘Seven.’

“Mr. James,” a smooth voice interrupted his thoughts. A well dressed young man, suit and tie, long hair bound back, stood at a small lectern near Sinner’s stage. “Welcome, I am your host this evening. My name is Timothy.”

Lincoln crossed his arms over his chest and gave Timothy a bored glare.

The boy seemed nonplussed. Instead he held a small leather bound book in his hand, much like a menu at a restaurant and presented it to Lincoln.

“Make your choice wisely, sir.”

It was pictures of beautiful naked young men, seven of them, and beneath each lascivious pose, the words _lust, envy, gluttony, sloth, anger, greed,_ and _pride_ was listed. How original.

He understood what was being offered to him. A night of discrete pleasure by a paid slut on the partners’ tab, Lincoln was at a crossroads. If he accepted, then he could be blackmailed by his firm’s leaders. If he declined, he could be blackballed by the same. And as reckless as he was in his proposals, Lincoln decided, what the hell, and studied the pictures more closely.

The choice for him was easy. The picture did not show the boy’s junk lewdly, instead it was an almost tasteful black and white. The boy was looking towards the camera from over his shoulder. The angle depicted a long lean neck the merged into wide shoulders. The boy’s thumbs were tucked into simple black briefs, caught in the act of sliding them downward. It brought the eye down the length of spine, to the tapered vee above the flare of ass. It made the viewer crave more of just the hint of crease exposed in the shot. The boy’s eyes were serious, his lips parted, and his hair a short crop against skull. Again, the angle was masterfully arranged to carry the eye downward once more, into the long line promising paradise. _Lust_ was a flare of red script along the bottom of the shot. Lincoln looked no further. He shoved the book under Timothy’s nose.

“This one.”

Timothy did not look surprised. Instead he gave a sharp nod and the curtains were drawn backwards. A burly bouncer with shiny skin and thick dreads waited.

“Lust.”

The bouncer gave no other indication or acknowledgement that Timothy had spoken. He simply held the black cloth gripped in his hand and Lincoln crossed the threshold. Following the broad back, he braced himself for a quick screw and then he could retire for the night. A scotch and his pipe, and then he would fuck Adam until the boy blacked out. Then he would call it an evening.

Lincoln was mildly shocked when he was led into a small booth, a scotch bottle and glass waiting on a side table. The chair faced another stage much like Saint and Sinner. His lips thinned in annoyance. The lights flickered low, throwing the stage into sharp focus. A chair with a small end table and a trio of thick candles flickered from a hanging candelabra.

Music, soft and sinuous, strings and piano began to filter as the door opened. It wasn’t the model from the book but an auburn haired man, dressed smartly, entered the small stage and took his seat in the solitary chair.

Lincoln’s eyes narrowed. The suit was an exact duplicate of what he was wearing, as was the chair. It was just like the chair from his study. He chose to smoke by candlelight before retiring for the evening. What the fuck was going on?

He didn’t have time to catch his breath when the boy, the model, the whore, whatever walked in with a shy smile for the seated man. His body was creamy against the caress of candles; the briefs hugged him perfectly, below the ridge of hip and high on muscled thighs.

The man did not say anything, just spread his thighs and gave the boy a lifted brow. Lincoln sucked in a breath, lust coiling in his gut, blood pooling in his groin. The boy had lowered himself to his knees, shadow and light dancing on the lean line from neck to spine, to ass, as he opened the man’s pants. Just before he took the half hardened flesh in his mouth, he looked back over his shoulder, much like the pose in the book. But instead of cold black and white, Lincoln could see the flush riding high on the expanse of his chest and across his cheekbones. He bit his full bottom lip before turning back to the task at hand and swallowed the length of erect cock, his lips stretched and red.

Lincoln growled.

_Lust_

*~*

_Envy_

Why should he feel envy? Lincoln was torn between fisting his cock and beating down the glass to get to the boy.

The boy who had put on a production of giving head to the insignificant man in the chair, to slicking his fingers and letting them sink deeply into his ass, to facing Lincoln as he slowly sat on the man’s cock.

It was mesmerizing. The pop of muscle across the abdomen, the ridged beauty of cock bouncing up and down, slapping wetly against the ripple of muscle, thighs that strained and showed definition, the boy rode the cock impaling him slowly.

Hand on his cock, Lincoln growled his approval as the man pushed the boy off of his lube smeared flesh and positioned him to hold onto the side of the chair. The boy’s back curved and his knuckles whitened as he was breached once more.

Lincoln jerked himself in time with the slap of flesh against flesh. The boy moaned hoarsely and let go of the chair with one hand. Lincoln hissed as the boy licked a broad swipe against his palm before reaching between his legs.

It was an injustice to such a long, hard piece of flesh. Lincoln could almost feel it within his own hand as he steadied the boy with hand to hip, allowing him to fuck his hand, the drag of vein and ridge as the boy’s face turned red. His features showed the pain that came before pleasure, his body tightening, muscles shown in high relief of flickering candlelight.

It was the quiet gasp above the music and the rope after rope of seed splattering against the hardwood floor that had Lincoln giving up his own release in his hand with hoarse shout.

Everything went dark.

The only thing he could hear was his loud pants as come cooled against his fingers.

When the lights came on, the stage was dark. Lincoln wiped himself off and tucked away his spent cock. He stood when the bouncer opened the door. He didn’t speak but Lincoln knew his time was over.

He looked back at the darkened stage with an unfamiliar feeling bubbling within him.

_Envy_

*~*

_Gluttony_

“Another club?” Adam whined with a pronounced limp. He looked through the closet and dragged out clothes.

Lincoln did not answer him. His own knees felt a bit weak after the fucking he had given the boy. But he was on a mission; he was going to find Seven.

His partners had not raised an eyebrow when he returned to work. He was awarded a senior associates position, complete with corner office and a view. But no one would answer him when it came to Seven.

Instead he went out on a hunt, through the seedy sections of town to the high end gay clubs in the city. Most times he took Adam so the boy would not bitch. Only now the opposite had happened.

He gave Adam a bored stare, “I’m sure I can find a pretty boy to fuck, hell, I might even bring him home. Where are you going to spend the night?”

Adam flinched and lowered his head. He undressed quietly and then slipped to his knees in front of Lincoln.

“Please,” warm breath ghosted across the thin material of his pants.

Lincoln continued to smoke as warm, moist heat surrounded his cock.

The search did not yield results until weeks later. Lincoln felt like he had fucked his way through the city, whispering to boys, placing dollars into sweaty hands. He was sitting in a private booth watching two young twinks fuck for his pleasure as a third blew him. He heard the whisper of _Seven_. He pushed the boy off of him with a loud pop and grabbed the passing waiter with knowing eyes.

Hundreds of dollars later, he was promised a phone call with more information.

Lincoln fell a sleep with Adam curled against him, his cock sore and wallet lighter. He knew he was being a glutton for punishment, but he had to know. He had to find Seven. He had to find the boy, who was bordering on obsession.

*~*

_Sloth_

The phone rang and rang. He lifted the beer bottle and took a slow pull as his answering machine clicked on and off. He scratched his belly and then the growth of hair that he had neglected to shave.

“You should shower,” Adam said blandly. The tray of food landed with a clatter beside him.

Lincoln blinked up at him and then stared ahead. He hadn’t been to work in days. He was afraid of missing the call, losing his hard earned connection to Seven. He didn’t shower, he didn’t sleep, instead the hours passed in haze of smoke, alcohol, and sex.

Adam might bitch but he knew what side of the bread was buttered on. He would suck Lincoln off or ride his cock with mood hit him. If not for Adam, he probably would have starved or dehydrated.

Lincoln did not care anymore. He only cared about getting the call.

The phone rang again only Adam answered it. The quiet conversation erupted in a loud “Oh!” The boy hurried up to him and handed him the phone.

“Someone wanting to talk to you about Seven?”

*~*

_Anger_

He felt refreshed as he was allowed into the club. It was just as he remembered it. The smoke, the lights, the nearly naked boys writhing on the dance floor, it was all the same.

Lincoln found the familiar entry way. The Saint and the Sinner danced. Only this time it was the Saint that caught his eye. The boy stared at him with a look of frowning compassion? Condemnation? Curiosity? Lincoln ignored him when Timothy appeared with a bland look on his face.

“You do not have an invitation.”

Lincoln replied coldly, “I don’t give a fuck, I don’t care how much it is. I want the boy, lust.”

“It doesn’t work that way, sir.” Timothy looked down at his manicured nails. “Go find a club boy, they will spread their legs willingly.”

“But…”

Two bouncers appeared, like twins, down to the shiny skin and dreads. Timothy straightened his tie.

“I suggest you go, sir, or you’ll be escorted off the premises.”

Lincoln shrugged off their hands with a snarl.

Rage boiled in his gut. His fingers curled into fists. He wanted to break something.

*~*

_Greed_

“You wanted to see me, Mr. James?” Archibald Braithwaite was English to the core, complete with glasses perched on the end of his nose and jaunty bow tie about his neck.

Lincoln wanted to strangle him slowly.

“Seven.” He bit out.

The old man did not react at first. His shoulders began to shake slowly until he was chuckling with merriment. Lincoln wanted to shut him up with a fist to his gasping mouth.

“I believe I will have won the pool this go ‘round.” Braithwaite took out a handkerchief and polished his glasses with it. “What is it worth to you?”

Lincoln paused at that. What was an unknown club whore worth to him? The long line of spine, the curve of ass, the shy smile that promised so much, it was an easy answer.

“Everything.”

“Really,” Braithwaite perched his glasses on his nose and reclined in his high back leather chair. “You would allow your greed, your lust for an unknown boy to override your better judgment, give up everything, just to possess him?”

“Yes.”

“Very well,” The old man picked up the phone and muttered quietly. “Mary Anne has what you seek; you may pick it up on your way out.”

It was a simple envelope with a 7 embossed across the front. Lincoln snatched it up and did not look back as he strode out of the office.

It was still daylight as he drove himself to the club. He pounded on the door until it was opened by a bleary eyed boy, who looked fucked out and fucked over.

“Come on in, sir,” He said sarcastically as Lincoln pushed his way in. The shine of the night had disappeared in the cold light of day, peeling paint, upturned chairs, and some kind of sticky residue sucked at his shoes as he made his way to the Saint and the Sinner, both booths empty.

He didn’t wait. He threw back the curtain only face to face with the boy. Lincoln reared backwards to keep from plowing him over.

The smile was still shy; the body covered in simple jeans and a button up shirt, and in his hands was a simple collar, the tag showing an ornate ‘L’. The boy licked his lips and Lincoln groaned.

“What took you so long?”

Lincoln kissed him deeply, full of tongue, clashing of teeth. Lincoln wanted to drink him down in greedy gulps. The boy melted into his arms.

*~*

_Pride_

Lincoln sat as his desk. He read over the memo that was embossed letterhead proclaiming: Marshall, Lovett, Braithwaite, and James Inc.

A quiet sigh was followed by a gentle thump of head against thigh. Dark eyes meet his own playfully. Lincoln smiled and carded the soft strands, “Let’s call it a day, pretty boy.”

His boy, Travis, rose gracefully and went for Lincoln’s coat. Since it was an office day, Travis was dressed simply, pants and collared shirt that was left open so that all could see his collar.

It had been a test. Much like secret societies of old, the partners had put into place a system to test the drive and determination of future partners. Most failed, out of shame or out of complacency, only the few fought valiantly for the prize, the prize wrapped up in lust.

Travis had been trained especially for him, the partners researching his likes and desires. He was a bit miffed to find out that Adam had been a plant, but it suited the partners’ needs to train a specific boy that would become his possession.

Those who chose _Lust_ as their sin almost always passed the test.

But all of the politics and drama faded under the pride of his boy. Travis followed him into his home and helped him undress. His robe and slippers followed and then he went to his study, seating himself in his chair enjoying the glow of candlelight. Travis appeared naked but for his collar.

“Sir?” The smile was still shy with an edge of naughtiness. Lincoln spread his thighs and moaned at the grace of lean muscle as Travis sank to his knees. It was the scene played out at the club that first night. Travis had him deep in his mouth, the dark eyes lifted in lust.

Lincoln changed his mind. He pulled the boy off of his cock and lifted him into his arms. Slender limbs wrapped about him, Travis burrowed against his neck.

“As much as I like your pretty mouth,” Lincoln said lowly, “I plan to fuck you for hours.”

He kissed his boy. He liked kissing him, deep and wet, soft, or playful. He kissed Travis before moving on to explore the lean muscles and silken smooth skin. Lincoln lifted one knee, exposing the soft slick opening that was ready for him to take. He covered the boy and slid in deep.

Travis flinched and then his head thumped against the pillow. The lean throat tempted him, Lincoln bit down and marked him. He fucked deep into the boy, hips snapping and his balls bouncing.

Travis was quiet, moaning his name until the frown puckered his forehead. Lincoln reared up on his arms and watched as the muscles tightened and Travis began fisting his cock in earnest. Ropes of pearly semen flew across his stomach and chest. Lincoln slowed as Travis recovered, panting heavily.

Then he began to move slowly. Dark eyes flew open in surprise.

“Wha?”

Lincoln grinned and nuzzled the boy’s neck and then his ear, “I told you pretty boy,” He said with great pride, “I’m going to fuck you for hours.”

Travis groaned and wrapped his body around Lincoln’s. It would be hours before they would collapse into a sated pile, to weak to clean themselves. Lincoln had just enough energy to pull the blanket up over their shoulders.

The boy curved into him, head against his chest, thigh between his legs. Lincoln kissed the sweaty hair and drifted off. He was content. The boy was his.


End file.
